“Hey, can you spare us another towel?” I ask.
“For Amelia?”
“Actually, no, for me. Your daughter thought it’d be funny to splash me.” I glance over my shoulder at him.
He shakes his head. “Sorry, we’re fresh out. Laundry day.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” I shoot over my shoulder at him, and shut the bathroom door on him with the heel of my foot.
He’s standing in the doorframe, and the door doesn’t latch, but it closes most of the way.
I help Amelia slip her pajamas on after she’s dry. The towel is completely soaked. There’s not even a small corner that I can use to help dry my shirt.
I grab the wet towel and use it to cover my breasts with it scrunched up. It’s damp but not nearly as wet as my shirt.
Amelia pulls open the bathroom door. With Levi’s attention on his cell phone, his daughter slams into him like a battering ram. Thankfully, it’s just his legs, and he steadies himself with a hand to the wall.
“I’ll have to call you back.” Levi ends the call, shoving his cell phone into his pants pocket. “I can take that,” he offers, holding out his hand for the damp towel.
“I’ve got it. I need to throw my clothes in the washer anyhow. I’m sure you have a washing machine around this place somewhere.”
“Laundry is down the hall. Second to the last door on the left.”
He clears his throat and opens his mouth, but the words don’t come.
“What?” I ask, glancing down to make sure the towel is covering my breasts. He doesn’t deserve a show.
“The clothes in your suitcase were dirty?”
I nod. “Why?” I just came back from vacation. Well, not actually vacation but staying with a friend during the divorce. What makes him think I’d have clean clothes in my luggage?
His tongue darts out to the side of his mouth, and he exhales a heavy breath. His face is red. “No reason.” He shakes his head and lifts Amelia into his arms. “Come on, story time.”
“No bed!” Amelia protests, seemingly knowing what’s coming.
I head to my bedroom, the door open and, with it, my suitcase is left unzipped. He closed the lid, but that was it. I zip the suitcase and drag it across the hallway to the laundry room.
Opening the laundry room door, I drop the damp towel in an empty bin, unzip my suitcase, and staring back is my bright-pink vibrator.
I tug my teeth between my lips. I guess he saw that, and that’s what left him flustered. I shrug it off and tuck it into the side compartment of my luggage. Lifting the lid for the washing machine, I toss my laundry in and start a load of clothes, leaving my undergarments for the next wash.
I pull my soaked shirt over my head, open the dryer, and toss it in. I’m left in my bra, but I’m not planning on leaving the room until my shirt is done.
There’s not a chair in the room, and after a few minutes, I grab a book from my bag and prop myself on the washing machine to sit.
The spicy scene in the novel carries me away, making me momentarily forget about the past eight months. I hungrily flip the page, reading one after the next, devouring the novel like it’s dessert. It’s sure as hell just as sweet and delicious.
The rumble of the washing machine offers itself up as a giant vibrator, and I try not to giggle at the sensation as my hips thrust in unison. My eyes shut, and the first image that pops into my head is Levi.
He bends between my legs, spreading them, begging to taste me as he kisses a trail to my heated center.
My insides throb, and my head dips back, gasping for air.
Am I delirious? Has it been that long since I’ve had good sex that I’m using washing machines and fantasies of my new boss, Sir-Grumps-a lot, to get off?
The rumbling of the washer thumps beneath my weight, and gosh, does it feel good. The machine grows louder as it becomes off balance, and Levi thrusts open the door, interrupting my pleasant mood and impending orgasm.
Damn.